


The Glass Ceiling

by Uniasus



Series: The Long Con [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: F/F, One-Sided Attraction, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 03:37:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21264440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uniasus/pseuds/Uniasus
Summary: Beelzebub is fascinated by the tower humans are building, but then becomes equally fascinated by the archangel who also comes to watch the humans.





	The Glass Ceiling

**Author's Note:**

> The Tower of Babel.

Crowley waved his denied request for the position of Satan in Beelzebub’s face. “What gives? This is the third time you’ve rejected me as Satan.”

Beelzebub, despite being shorter, looked down her nose at Crowley. “You’re the wrong type of person.”

“Wrong type! I’ll have you know I did an excellent job in the Garden of Eden. If _anyone_ has the skills to be Satan for a decade, it’s me. Who else is better than tempting humans?”

“You realize the role of Satan _isn’t_ about tempting humans?”

Crowley blinked at him. “Of course it is.”

“Then why is it in Heaven, not on Earth?”

“Cuz… that’s where the angels are.”

“I’m not letting you near the angels in Heaven.” Beelzebub turned on her heel to stalk away.

Crowley slunk in front of her, stopping her path. “Am I too charming?”

Beelzebub crossed her arms. “I know what you’ve been trying to do with Aziraphale.”

“Are you trying to stop me? That’s hypocritical, you know. You did it with Michael.”

“And it didn’t work,” Beelzebub snapped. “What you want, what you think can happen, it’s not going to.”

“You don’t know that,” Crowley insisted. “Aziraphale might be different-“

“He’s a Principality now, but he started as a Cherub.”

“So?”

“So he’ll cling to how God made him more than an Archangel.” Beelzebub flicked out her wings in anger. Clear and delicate, they weren’t very intimidating, but they tended to follow her into this plane when she was agitated.

Crowley, thankfully, didn’t comment on it. She suspected his snake fangs behaved similarly.

“You’re just upset you failed with Michael,” Crowley said.

“And I don’t want you to feel the same.”

Crowley stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned back. “He’s not like other angels.”

“Maybe. But I’m still not letting you take up the role of Satan.”

“Are you going to stop me talking to Aziraphale on Earth?”

“No. I’ll just remind you it’s hard to break free of your nature. Don’t be too upset if what you want doesn’t happen.” She stepped around Crowley and continued on her way.

“Do you regret it?” Crowley called after her. “Only trying the one time?”

Beelzebub didn’t answer him.

As it was, she did regret it, regretted she had tried it at all. She should have known that an angel would be so cruel. After all, their mother was God.

* * *

Humans, Beelzebub thought, were more interesting than flies. She liked flies more, she’d admit, for obvious reasons, but humans were more interesting. It was probably the large brains or the longer lifespan, or maybe it was the hands.

After all, flies couldn’t build _this._

Beelzebub herself hadn’t thought of building things. Most of her kind were wanders and had no need for a place to rest their heads. They weren’t connected to locations like Principalities, or orders like Archangels or Powers. What they protected and served was the whole planet. You didn’t make permanent structures to come back to.

Landmarks, though, she understood.

And this, oh this was a _landmark._

It was the tallest thing she’d ever seen, and it wasn’t even complete. Ever since it had surpassed four stories, Beelzebub had come to see the progress weekly.

Somehow, out of mud and spit and trees, the humans were building a tower.

She wasn't the only one to come and check on the humans' progress. Crowley came frequently. Hastur had come once, sniffed, and hopped away. Dagon wanted to come, but the environment in Shinar was so far outside her comfort zone the fish was waiting for the tower to be completed first.

There was also Michael.

It hadn't taken much time to determine the well-dressed woman who silently watching the building was an angel, but it had taken Beelzebub much longer to realize it was Michael. Since then, she's familiarized herself with Michael's aura and made a point of seeking the angel out. Not, not to interact, but just too keep an eye on her, Beelzebub supposed.

Angels rarely did something without a purpose, Archangels less so, and witnessing one indulge in what might be leisure time was just as fascinating as watching the tower grow.

The months went by, and Beelzebub found herself not just popping into Babylon weekly, but living in the city simply because it was impossible to predict when Michael would show up to watch the builders. And when she did, Beelzebub had to hide how long she stared at the angel's profile.

* * *

After fifteen years of building, the Tower of Babylon, as the locals began calling it, had a finished first tier. Square and two hundred meters on each side, people could reach the top of it via an extremely long set of stairs. Not many humans climbed but for those who did, there were benches along the top of for resting.

Beelzebub just powered herself onto a bench whenever she wanted. Usually it was to watch the sunrise, there were fewer people, and seeing the colors from someplace high made them brighter.

Earth's beauty always took Beelzebub's breathe away. There were other planets, she knew, and probably others with life, but nothing, she felt, would every compare to Earth.

She was fully aware of her basis, having been made for this planet specifically, but she was allowed. Everyone needed something to be proud of. For the people in Babylon and the wider Shinar valley, it was this ever-growing tower. For Beelzebub and the rest of her kind, it was the world they'd been tasked to look after.

"So you do stare at things other than me."

Beelzebub jerked and twisted in her seat.

Behind her stood Michael.

She gaped. In the almost nine years Beelzebub had lived in Babylon, not once had they spoken. "Yeah, well," Beelzebub turned back to the sunrise to hide her growing fluster, "I like staring at beautiful things."

With a rustle of cloth, Michael sat down on the other side of the bench. "Does that mean you think I'm beautiful?"

"All angels are beautiful."

"Hmm, yes. I don't suppose demons are known for being graceful. Or clean."

Beelzebub blushed, aware of the dirt on her hem and dust in her hair.

"You're better than most," Michael continued. "Is that because you spend your time here, instead of Hell?"

Beelzebub pressed her lips together.

Hell.

Who started that rumor, she didn't know, but she guessed God Herself. Normally, she'd play along. Confused angels tended to get violent, or shouty, or something else equally unpleasant and not trying to sway an angel from their delusions was simpler. But today, she hated the thought that Michael might be imagining Beelzebub with a sooty face, singed hair, and hellfire burns on the back of her calves.

Beelzebub didn't want to be a demon Michael felt disgust for, or pity, or revulsion. Instead, she wanted to be…

Be someone like this. Someone to sit next to. Talk to. Be friends with.

How could she keep Michael here?

"The Archangel Michael, beautiful, powerful, and smart."

Michael brightened, her joy at the compliment fulling her human body.

"The demon Beelzebub, flatter and admirer of humans."

"So are you." Finally, Beelzebub turned to look Michael in the face. The sunrise turned her skin into rose petals, her hair into the gold of smooth sand. "You come to watch the humans all the time."

"They're more entertaining than my heavenly siblings."

Beelzebub snorting. "I think the same about mine."

She smiled at Michael, Michael smiled back. Beelzebub resisted the urge to scoot closer to her on the bench.

When the sun fully rose, Beelzebub turned to her bench mate to ask her to break the fast together, but the angel was gone.

* * *

It was silly and unsupported, but Beelzebub watched the sunrise every day for six months waiting for Michael to join her again. It never happened. Instead, they ran into each other on the ground, watching the humans drag or roll large pieces of stone up the front stairs to be added to the second tier.

"Where do they come up with these ideas?" Michael asked.

Beelzebub shrugged.

"It must be because humans were created in God's image," the angel continued. "God created life, and now humans create, this." She waved her hands at the Tower.

Beelzebub raised a hand to her eyes and tilted her head back. It had to be twenty meters high by now. "Probably," she agreed. "I know this isn't something celestials can do."

"No." Michael agreed, and she sounded just a touch awed.

"They're impressive, aren't they?" Beelzebub said, meaning the humans.

"Sometimes, yes. They're limited in power, they only exist on and perceive one of the seven planes of existence. They are weak, and fragile, and very easy to squash."

Beelzebub bit her tongue. She'd seen squashing. And drowning. And so much more.

"And yet," Michael trailed off, still observing the humans push the large block up sandstone on half a dozen logs, "and yet they build such wonderful things."

"It's the thumbs," Beelzebub offers.

Michael snorts and the sound makes Beelzebub freeze in astonishment. She doesn't know if she's ever seen an angel not act like a stuck up snob. Show evidence of a sense of humor.

"We have thumbs too, and we haven't built anything like this."

_I know why angels don't,_ Beelzebub was tempted to answer, but she couldn't answer the obvious follow up, why hadn't demons, without completely rearranging Michael's perception of them.

"Maybe it's because they have no guidance," Beelzebub said.

Michael stiffened. "There's a guardian angel for every family, are you suggesting they don't do their job? Or that demons are more powerful in swaying human minds?"

"No! No!" Beezlebub threw her hands up. Michael gave off a surge of heavenly power. A few nearby humans looked around wildly, sensing danger but unable to pin it to the well-dressed lady a meter away. "Only angels, and demons, were given tasks. Goals, that serve to guide all our actions. And that's to guide humans down certain spiritual paths. But they don't have a day-to-day objective like we have," _like you have, _"They have time to _think,_ and _create, _and _imagine._ They have nothing to guide the day, and so they plan, and they dream up things like this."

She waved her hands toward the Tower.

Michael followed the motion, then turned her attention on to Beelzebub. The height difference, easily a head and a half, made Beelzebub simultaneously want to shrink and stand up taller. But flies are spineless creatures; she eventually turned her gaze away from the angel's grey eyes.

_They're like rain clouds,_ Beelzebub though and shook the thought from her head.

"We should find out," Michael eventually said, "their dreams for this tower."

* * *

Beelzebub didn’t change her appearance for Michael. Not really. Changing clothes when you had the power to change your form didn’t _really_ count as an appearance shift if you asked her. Still, Beelzebub felt special in a clean dress and combed hair, her skin filth free and eyes lined with just a bit of kohl.

Michael didn’t mention any of it.

They spent the day getting the attention of humans and it took time to get in the rhythm of it. They were both too used to walking amongst them while simultaneously directing attention away, and it ended up being a hard habit to break. Beelzebub let Michael do most of the talking. Her striking features and angelic grace had a better chance of getting and keeping a human’s focus, her invisible power encouraging them to speak.

Beelzebub could have used her own powers, but they worked better on flies and insects than humans. Besides, if she did that, she would miss the opportunity to watch Michael.

She’d gently, but firmly approach someone supervising the work. She’d smile, a small thing that often made the men turn all their attention on her. And Beelzebub’s too. And then... and then she’d ask questions. What were the men doing? Why? What was the point of the tower? Deeper and deeper into her target’s motivation she’d go, eager to understand, and Beelzebub soon found herself ignoring the human’s answers and instead wishing to be in their place.

What would it feel like, to have Michael give her that much attention? To look into her eyes, touch her arm, and look so sincere, so _invested_ in her answers? To reveal herself, question by question, and have Michael take that information keep it. Store it. Act on it.

Beelzebub _wanted_ Michael to do that. Know her. Look past Heaven's propaganda, past Beelzebub's gossamer wings, to see the truth. What Beelzebub was, and what Michael thought she was, were two different things. If only Michael could see that, show interest in not the humans, but the being walking by her side –

Would it lead to shared sunrises? Walks where they held hands? Finger brushes? Knowing each other's names, desires, taste?

_Know me,_ Beezlebub pleaded silently, watching the archangel quiz human after human. _Ask me questions, know me too._

And then there he was. The human who had dreamed it all. Found the money, the workers, the stone. The singular person who was why this Tower of Babel was being built.

"Who doesn't like to be known? Heralded?" He admitted, taken by Michael's fluttering eyelashes. "And with a tower like this?" he raised his hand, following the shape of the structure. "We will be a people known, and people celebrated. This will make a name for the people of Shinar. This tower will draw us together in Babylon."

"News of the tower has certainly spread," Michael said.

"The people of the valley will be famous, and so will I, my name spoken throughout the Earth. The higher the tower reaches into the sky, the more this city will be spoken of. Soon, we will be the greatest city."

"Remarkable," Michael said.

Her tone sent shivers down Beelzebub's spine. The angel didn't sound impressed, she sounded dismissive. True, the Tower was no Mount Zion, but it was still spectacular. Still brilliant.

"Aren't humans impressive?" Beezlebub asked as they stood side-by-side watching the workers later. "To build such a thing? A monument to attract settlers, and bring a people together."

Michael turned toward her, form shifting as her freckles became pinpoints of light. Beezlebub thought, _how beautiful,_ until she recognized the rage, realized the words coming from the angel's mouth.

"Is this your doing, _demon?"_ She spat the word, each vowel a knife into Beezlebub's heart. "Convincing humans to build a monument to themselves? To declare their superiority?"

"No! And that's not what they're doing. It's simply a landmark, a gathering point-"

"You didn't whisper in their ears, become greater? Plant seeds in their mind, break the mold God has for you? They are expanding!" Michael waved a hand around, encompassing the city.

"Be fruitful and multiply, that was the command, was it not?" Beelzebub's own rage started to build. "They've done that, at God's command!"

"They were to populate the Earth, not form hubs. Not lift themselves from the dirt. But I suppose as you can't return to Heaven, you're asking the monkeys to knock on the doors for you."

Beelzebub puffed up, her anger causing her powers to lash out. Flies, fat and small, came to land in her hair, on her shoulders, in her robes. Her creatures of the Earth, come to soothe her jagged emotions.

She might be for the flies, but she was also for the Earth. For humans. For the same way angels were for God.

"They're not monkeys!" Beelzebub hissed. "They are as much as God's creation as you are! And as God built this world, should not they build structure too? Should not they use what they were given? Imagination? Creativity? Thumbs?"

"Humans are _pets_, and below us. They should not strive for what is not theirs. You learned that lesson long ago, Fallen. I can't believe you're encouraging the humans to follow in your footsteps."

_I'm not Fallen,_ Beelzebub wanted to say. _There's no such thing. I was never like you._

But Michael didn't give her the chance. In a blaze of light that hurt Beezlebub's eyes, Michael was gone.

* * *

Hours later, the sky shook, the tower crumbled, and the language in Babylon splintered. The Tower, once the hope of uniting a people, became the very reason friends and family could no longer understand one another. Michael got promoted, now a true Power for God, for helping to enforce Her order.

Beelzebub cried, for many things. The set back this meant for humans. The fact she'd never see the tower she loved watching be finished. And that Heaven's, God's, propaganda was so thick she'd never get Michael to like her.

_Stay in your lane,_ God seemed to say. To humans. To Angels. To Beelzebub and her kind. _How dare you step outside your purpose._ _How dare you want more. Don't cross lanes._

* * *

Maybe, Beelzebub thought, looking at Crowley's tenth request for the role of Satan, maybe others hadn't learned the lesson she had long ago. She hoped that stayed true.

**Author's Note:**

> Curious as to where I'm going, or just wanna talk? Come find me on [Tumblr](uniasus.tumblr.com).


End file.
